“Touch the dirt. Roll in it!”
The girl stumbled in Shara’s direction and knocked over a milk pail, turning the dirt in front of her into a muddy mess. Pain sent the girl pitching forward where she landed on hands and knees in the milk. Her cries became whimpers, and she glanced up at Shara in shock. The girl’s eyes rolled back as she passed out.
“Don’t touch her!” Bredych called from the door.
Shara stared at the girl’s hands as blood seeped out, but it was only blood. No foamy concoction spread across her at all. Behind her, the cow let loose a painful cry, and she scooped up spilled milk and splashed it on the cow’s back legs. It took two more tries to coat the foam without touching it, but it worked. The milk stopped the foam from spreading.
Armed with that knowledge, she bent over the girl and listened. Her breaths were shallow but present, and Shara ripped the bottom quarter of her cloak, using it to wrap around the girls mutilated hands. “Stop touching her! Are you mad?” her brother called, but she ignored him as she bandaged the girl as best she could.
“The milk seems to neutralize it. Maybe the foam’s acidic in nature. Quick—we need to tell the townsfolk!” Bredych stared at the girl, then glanced at Shara as she held up her hands. “See? No foam. I’m fine. Help me tell the others.”
Bredych followed her from the lean-to and out into the town, where multiple buildings lay destroyed.
Dammit, there ain’t enough milk in town, let alone three towns for the destruction takin’ place. “See if ya can find any horses that ain’t harmed or dead, then spread the word on how to stop this poison.”
Shara ducked back into the lean-to and picked up the girl. A huddle of healthy people stood at the town’s center, and she carried the child to them. “She’s injured, but she won’t hurt ya.”
The group backed away from her, and Shara shook her head. “Dammit, milk’s the answer. It stops this magical ooze. Girl knocked over a bucket and fell in it. Her hands are injured, but she’s otherwise fine. She won’t devour ya. I need to help the others, but you’ll have to take her.”
Juidre stepped forward from the group and held out his arms. “Give her to me.”
She handed off the girl to the innkeeper with a nod and ran to the closest house. “Anyone here? Anyone still alive?” she called. When no one answered, she moved on to the next house and the next.
At the fourth house, she found two children huddled near a puddle of ooze and what could only be the remains of a family member. “Can ya jump?” she asked, and the little boy holding the candle nodded.
“Come to me then. I’ll catch ya. Just don’t touch it.”
“M’sister. Her first.”
The girl couldn’t have been more than four as she stared up with moon-sized eyes. When Shara held out her hands, the girl shook her head. “Will eat me.”
“I won’t let it.”
When the child refused a second time, Shara tiptoed as close to the ooze as she dared, then stretched forward until her hand rested against the counter. She encircled the child’s waist with her free arm, then shoved away from the ooze and the counter. Her muscles screamed from the weight’s odd positioning as she fought to fall backward rather than forward. Once safely across the ooze, she backpedaled until her momentum slowed. The moment she set the girl down, the boy set the candle on the counter and leapt over the puddle with ease.
Shara ushered them both toward the center of town and continued her search. Those that hadn’t run afoul of the foam were already huddled at the town’s center, with the exception of the two kids. Most of the town’s guards, if they could be called that, had fled when the chaos began, though a few lay dead near the Katalhum Inn, where they’d gotten too close to what remained.
More dead lay near the small lake at the town’s northern edge, and she shuddered. They drank the stuff. Thirteen help us, it’s in the water. Of course it is—the runoff from the rain poisoned the lake.
She pressed two fingers against her forehead and closed her eyes.
Itovah be merciful in their crossin’, as ya weren’t in their passin’.
By the time she reached the center of town again, Bredych had rounded up five horses, a mule, and one cow. “We need to leave town before we’re trapped here,” she said.
“Trapped here? What do you mean?” Several townsfolks muttered questions in her direction in voices that shook with exhaustion and fear.
“Dirt stops the stuff. So does milk. But yer town’s in a circle. When it stops, there’ll be a circle of ooze around us. We’ll be trapped inside, so we need to leave,” she said.
“Where will we go? It’s nighttime! The next town isn’t for another ten miles.” This from a young woman holding a squirming toddler.
“Ya just need to get outside town. Ya can stay there ’til daylight and walk once the sun comes up. Someone can take the wounded girl on a horse, and those that need can ride as well.” Shara didn’t wait for them to agree but set forth toward the town entrance. Whoever or whatever had started the real fire, had done so far enough away that it hadn’t reached the entrance, nor had the ooze. At first, the cow didn’t want to leave town, but a few pieces of grass tempted her to follow the line of people and horses.
Several cried out as a rumble shook them, and Shara turned to see that Ebitai Inn had collapsed. “Keep walkin’,” she ordered.
Bredych leaned close to her ear. “We can’t stay with them,” he whispered.
She nodded but kept walking until they reached a nice canopy of trees. “It’s safe to stop here.”
Blacksmith Bahr began gathering wood, and a few women gathered pine needles and leaves for makeshift beds. Before long, the townsfolks had settled into a temporary camp, complete with a fire pit.
“Ya should be safe enough here ’til mornin’, but take turns keepin’ watch ’til the sun comes up. Still wild creatures about,” she said.
“And don’t drink the water from the lake. The poison must have run off from the inn to the lake last night, and well, you know the rest. You’ll have to make due until you reach a different water source. Make sure you label that lake as poison when you can,” said Bredych.
Bahr trudged up to them both, a frown on his face. He pointedly ignored Shara, though his cheeks flushed as he approached. “What about you two? You talk as if you’re leaving.”
“We are. We have responsibilities elsewhere.”
The blacksmith shook his head at Bredych’s words. “So ya just roll into town, and a day later, some evil…thing destroys the Katalhum Inn. Now the rest of town’s gone, the water’s poison, and you’ve got ‘responsibilities elsewhere,’ have ya?”
Shara stepped between the two men and touched Bahr’s arm. “Ya don’t want to do this. Let us go.”
He glanced down at her bald head, and she turned until the circular tattoo on her jaw, almost tucked under her earlobe, was visible in his candle-light. When his gaze caught it, he set his lips in a grim line. “Amaskans are Justice seekers, no? So much for that,” he muttered. When someone nearby raised a fuss, he rushed over to whisper something in their ear.
A hush spread quickly through the makeshift camp as Bredych and Shara left. Bahr ain’t wrong. We should be stayin’ to help set this right. But Bredych ain’t wrong either. We need to get back to the Order. This magic’s a threat to us all. She turned several times to look back over her shoulder. No one wished them safe travels, and no one dared wish them a happy return.
They walked a good two miles before stopping, putting plenty of distance between the two temporary camps. Bredych carried his flint on him, which he used with a dagger to spark their fire. Most of his supplies were gone like Shara’s, having been in their room when the Katalhum Inn was devoured.
He was silent for a time as they watched the wood pop in the night air, and then he opened his mouth and closed it again. This happened twice more before Shara, irritated and tired, flicked his shoulder. “Speak yer peace.”
“What?”
“Ya want to say so
methin’. I can see it worrin’ at ya, so say it already.”
Bredych’s brows furrowed together. “Do you ever wonder if you’re cursed?”
Shara could’ve laughed but in truth, the thought had occurred to her. First Tovias and now Lachail. “I’ve wondered, but accidents happen. Look at how many jobs I’ve had ’tween Tovias and Lachail. Not every job’s gone wayward. In fact, most haven’t.”
“Yes, but you have to admit, Lachail was a disaster. If you hadn’t--well, there would still be a town called Lachail.”
She glared at her brother. “If I hadn’t? I didn’t pick this job, so don’t put this on me and me alone. This could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t, sister. It happened to you.”
His gaze wouldn’t meet hers, not quite, and he shifted his body to face the fire. The ooze had burned a poisonous path between them without even touching them, and Shara curled her fingers into fists.
She wanted to hate him for it. Not because he’d said it, but because he was wrong. Any Amaskan would’ve done what she had, and he knew it. As usual, he blames me for whatever goes wrong. Is it because it’s easier? Or does he truly believe me untrustworthy?
A twig lay to her left that she picked up and used to draw circles in the dirt. At some point, Bredych slept, using his cloak as a blanket. She did, too, though the night’s chill woke her several times, and a few candlemarks before sunrise, she woke with a dry mouth and a hungry belly.
He’ll never admit it, but my brother’ll do whatever he has to in order to be Grand Master, including ruin my reputation. Maybe Eli was right. Maybe the Order with a bad leader is no Order at all.
There’s Justice, and there’s the wrong kind of Justice.
Shara picked up the twig she’d dropped earlier and used it to scratch a note in the dirt.
Brother,
Ya don’t trust me.
Leaving to find answers. Don’t follow me.
-S
She made sure to dig the letters deep so the dirt wouldn’t brush them away, and then stood with one last look at her brother. I’ll return, though it may not be for you. I need to find my place in this world without ya.
Quiet as the woodland creatures, Shara walked away from the camp toward the East and wherever that path would take her…
First Tovias burned and then Lachail, but it’s not a curse that haunts Shara of the Order of Amaska. It’s her brother. Rather than face him and the destructive path he’s carving through the Little Dozen Kingdoms, Shara flees her home in hopes of finding out what it means to serve Justice. Will she find the answers she’s seeking, or will this new man in her life bring more destruction down upon those she loves?
Find out in Forgotten Magic: Magic Underground Anthologies Book III.
About the Author
International award-winning and bestselling speculative fiction author and artist Raven Oak is best known for Amaskan’s Blood (2016 Ozma Fantasy Award Winner, 2016 Epic Awards Finalist, & 2019 Reader’s Choice Award Winner), Amaskan’s War (2018 UK Wishing Award YA Finalist), and Class-M Exile. She’s an active member of SFWA and has short stories published in multiple anthologies and magazines. Raven spent most of her K-12 education doodling stories and 500-page monstrosities that are forever locked away in a filing cabinet.
When she’s not writing, she’s getting her game on, indulging in cartography and painting, or staring at the ocean. She lives in the Seattle area with her husband, and their three kitties who enjoy lounging across the keyboard when writing deadlines approach.
For more information about the author, please visit: www.ravenoak.net.
Don't forget to grab your copy of Forgotten Magic for more fantasy adventures.
Ariana’s Choice
H. M. Jones
In “Ariana’s Choice,” young Ariana is thrust into adulthood when her powerful magic gets out of hand. Wayward Magic, to me, means that the magic either goes awry or the magic maker goes awry. Both of these scenarios are true for Ariana, whose magic is the reason for her solitude and for her new, strange adventure. Mostly, “wayward” in this story, implies that Ariana must find her own, very different way in life. One that is quite unexpected.
H.M. Jones
When Ariana is pushed out of her home of thirteen years and thrust into a dark and dreary forest, she cannot help but worry that, magic or no, she may not survive. Taking shelter in a cave, she stumbles upon a new friend and an unknown destiny. Follow Ariana as she finds her way in a strange, new world.
Ariana stood in front of the glade at the edge of her father’s property, her knees shaking and her stomach turning. She felt Ruthie’s warm hand on her shoulder, but had eyes only for the dense, dark forest stretched out like death’s cloak before her.
“There now, Lass. You mustn’t be afeared of what you don’ know, only careful of it. Don’ eat anything you don’ know is edible. Some forest mushrooms are poison, though they don’ look it. I packed ya enough food for a week, if yer not wasteful.”
Ariana turned to Ruthie. “I don’t know how to survive in there, Ruthie. Can’t you just tell father you saw me enter? I can make my way in another town, or another country...”
Ruthie shook her head, interrupting her. “I never said much about yer ma, my Lady, because your father forbade it. But I met her. Yer father came to the inn where I used to cook before he hired me on. She was with him, and from the looks of her she was pretty far along. Waddled like they do when they are about to let the child out. That night, I was cleanin’ up after closin’ the kitchen and I heard yer father wailin’ for help. I ran up the stairs. He grabbed me and pushed me into his room, where yer ma was doubled over in birth pains. She had ya right there that night, with my help. Yer father was useless, o’course, so I sent him to the hall.”
Ruthie sighed. “Ya were a beautiful baby. Quiet. Dinnit really fuss or nothin’. Curious ice blue eyes, pale like yer ma’s. They left the inn the next day, but ya stayed in my heart, lass. And wouldn’ ya know it, just a few weeks later, word came to me that a Lord Grey from the next village over was looking for a cook who could nanny, too. I remembered your father’s name, Lord Georgio Grey. I never knew yer ma’s name. I never saw her again. But when he hired me he said I was not to mention the lady to him, that she’d left to be with her kind. He said it like that, not ‘her family,” ‘her kind.’”
Ariana stared at Ruth in amazement. Part of her felt betrayed and part of her felt thankful she hadn’t known all of this. It wouldn’t have made her life any easier.
“Course, it wasn’ easy raisin’ ya, even if ya were a quiet mite. Strange things happened when ya got riled. We had to take on Annabeth by the time you were four, and her only a handful of years older. I needed all the help I could get.” She smiled and tweaked Ariana’s nose.
Annabeth wiped at her eyes. “You were a good girl, Lady. Just different. Not bad, though. I remember one day you were playing with a button on my blouse and the button turned into a butterfly. You clapped and giggled, not knowing that what you did was out of the ordinary. It scared me, then, but it was the most beautiful butterfly, with teal and purple markings. None of your spells were ever bad around me n’Ruth, not even when we made you dress in those stiff petticoats. Course, something happened to the petticoats…”
Ariana giggled. She was only eight when her father asked Annabeth to dress her in a fancy ball gown for a local dance. He almost never let her interact with anyone but Annabeth, Ruthie and various bribed tutors. He had her maid put a very stiff layer of petticoats on Ariana, which she absolutely hated.
When Annabeth was done fussing with her, Ariana pouted and said, “I wish petticoats were made of clouds, so they didn’t itch and chaff so.” And that’s what they’d become. Her skirts billowed out, filling with soft, moist clouds that dampened her satin dress, ruining it for the ball.
“I know I’m different, but what has that got to do with me going in there?” Ariana nodded in the direction of the woods. They were suppos
ed to be impregnable. How was she, a girl who had no experience in the world, supposed to succeed where no adults had?
Ruthie turned Ariana’s chin towards her. “Lass, that thing that’s different in you, that’s magic, and it can’t be hid from the world like yer da was trying to do. Yer too full of it. And that power will make ya stand out in a way that scares the people of this world. That’s not a life I want for ya, child.”
Annabeth sniffled. “It’s not fair, my Lady, but she’s right.”
Ariana shook her head, tears spattering her cheeks. “I don’t understand how sending me into the forest to die is any better. I expect it of my father, but not you two.”
“There now, lass, we don’t expect you’ll come to harm in the forest. The Black Forest is not dangerous to the fairy folk, only to us humans. No Will-O-the-Wisps will be able to catch ya astray, no tree sprites will be able to sneak up on ya and hold ya prisoner in their oaks. The fairy folk are the most respected folk in the Black Forest because they have powers beyond compare. The mischievous spirits will not try to trick a fairy child, no matter her innocence.”
Ariana frowned. Ruthie loved telling stories of fairies, sprites, and mythical creatures, but Ariana never thought she’d believed them. “That’s...that’s just kid’s stories. I’m...I have a human father. And...how can you know what my mother was?”
Ruthie shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I can only tell ya that I’m sure, my girl.” She hugged Ariana around her skinny shoulder with one arm. “Mayhap yer not all fae. Don’ seem to matter much to the magic. It’s strong with ya. Please trust me, and trust yer instincts.”
Suddenly, the sounds of hooves, braying hounds and rough voices filled the air. Ruthie grabbed Ariana, hugged her firmly and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes ran with tears, but they were set in determination. “Lass, yer meant for big things. Don’ forget me. I love ya.” She hung the food basket over Ariana’s skinny arm.
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